


Forgiving My Father

by cherrynoel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, Pedophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 06:10:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9979826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrynoel/pseuds/cherrynoel
Summary: It is a big day for Castiel, but as he attempts to get ready, he is faced with memories he doesn't want to remember and grudges he needs to let go of.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: Original character (not Chuck/God) is Castiel's dad and is discovered to be a pedophile.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my own face was staring right back, almost pale in the lighting of the small room. We’re both confused. “How hard should it be to tie a bowtie?” I say in frustration. I never thought it would be as hard as this. I guess I should have practiced before today, but, as they say, hindsight is 20/20, isn’t it? I take a deep breath and think about how much easier it would have been to do this if my father had taught me, and that brings up a whole mess of memories and thoughts that I shouldn’t be thinking about today, of all days.

Today is a happy day, magnificent, glorious. I should be thinking about my future today, not my past. But I still do. I think about my father every day, even though I would like to forget about him. I toss the bowtie on the floor and sink down next to it, resting my cheek on my hand. Then I let myself go.

***

  
My father was a good man, he was the preacher at our church, and I always worshipped him when I was young. The earliest memory I have is watching him, with my head upside down, as he pushed me in a swing. He was smiling. I think about that all the time. As I got older, my father started to change, and I don’t know what caused it exactly, but he just seemed a little more on edge. Little things would make him angry. He would yell at my mom all the time. He wouldn’t let her touch him anymore. I saw other couples at church holding hands, or a man kissing his wife on the forehead, but that didn’t happen at my house.

I remember wondering what kind of life that was, especially for my mother, to not have a person to lean on. By the time I was in middle school, I knew something was really wrong with the way they acted toward each other, and how my father treated her, how he started treating me, how he started treating others. “Castiel,” he would say, “You have to be true to yourself, but only if being true to yourself is what is right.” Then he would put his head in his hands and start praying, adamantly, for hours. I found him like that on so many occasions.

What he said, though, about being true to yourself, it stuck. I kept it as my motto. By the age of fifteen, I said it to myself more than once an hour. I had to, because by the time I was fifteen, I knew I was gay. I had had crushes on other boys since the seventh grade. When my friends would be talking about how hot the cheerleaders were, I would be thinking about the quarterback. I remember watching television with my father and saying how attractive I thought Brad Pitt was. I had never seen him so angry. He went on a rant about why God said it was wrong to say that about another man, and spouted out verses about how big of a sin it was to ‘lie with another man’ and all that. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he just said it again – “Be true to yourself, but only if being true to yourself is what is right.” – and walked out of the room, praying.

I thought that as Christians we weren’t supposed to judge other people. I was proven wrong when, one Sunday, my parents invited some of the adults from church over to watch the game after service. While we were watching, a commercial came on for makeup, and it had Ellen DeGeneres in it. One of the men pointed a rigid finger at the screen and said, “This is what the world has come to! It is vile, disgusting, and Godless! Can’t even watch the game without this filth thrown in our faces!” He lowered his hand and grabbed his can of beer, taking a sip as if the liquid inside would only more prove his point.

Everyone nodded, and another man spoke up, “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could just round up all the gays, put them on an island, and blow it up?” Everyone started laughing. Everyone except me. I looked at my dad, and while the laughter was coming out of his mouth, the look didn’t reach his eyes. I wondered then if maybe he was gay, because it would’ve explained so much, but I found out later he wasn’t. He had other problems.

***

  
I look down at the tie, lying crumpled beside me. Would I still be here today if things had gone differently? The tie reminds me what I am doing today, and I try to think of some happy thoughts from my adolescence. Back to the time before I truly decided who I was going to be, before I made the decision that led me here. I think about Dean.

***

Shortly after I turned fifteen, a boy named Dean came to school. He was different than me in every way, physically. While I had pale skin, his was tan. My dark-as-night hair looked stark against his short blond spikes, and his green eyes complemented my own piercing blues. I felt drawn to him from the moment I saw him and we became fast friends. Dean and I had a lot in common, despite the contrast in our looks. Because, you see, Dean was gay, too. The only other person I had ever come face-to-face with that felt the way I did.

When I was honest with him, and told him that I wanted to come out to my parents, he smiled and said, “Just afraid to be true to yourself when people know you’re doing it?” I nodded. “Don’t worry about it so much. I can help you if you want. We could do it together.” Then he grabbed my hand and squeezed it, just a little. It gave me the strength I needed to be true to myself, even if other people thought it was wrong.

***

  
I pick up the tie now and stand back up, looking determinedly at the mirror. “C’mon, Cas, you can do this. You have seen it done enough.” The tie seems to be fighting me, though, and I get frustrated. I can’t focus when I think about all of this, I realize. I have to let it go, and to do that, I have to forgive my father for what he did.

***

  
I went home that day, ready to come out to my parents. I knew what I might lose, what might happen, but I wanted to do it anyway. Dean had called his mom at lunch and she had said it would be okay for me to stay there for a few days to let things calm down. When I got off the bus, I panicked. I felt like there was no way to approach my parents without completely ticking them off. I decided to wait a couple days, and to maybe look some tips up on the internet.

As the days passed, I finally got up the courage to go into my dad’s office and use his computer. My parents were busy in the kitchen, eating breakfast, and I wanted to use the time the best I could. I slipped quietly into the room and shut the door. As I made my way to the computer, I could hear my heart beating like a drum, but finally, I made it to the chair and sat down. As I moved the mouse to wake up the computer, I was shocked to see the page that was already pulled up – a website, full of pictures of naked little kids. When, in a panic, I started to exit the page, a popup showed up that said, “Are you sure you want to leave, JN?” My father’s initials were burned into my brain, and I realized that this wasn’t some kind of spam, but he had actually gone to this page. He had an account on the page. As wrong as I thought it was, I had an idea – not a good one, but at the time, it was my saving grace. If coming out to my parents didn’t go as well as I planned, at least I had something to throw back at them.

I got off the computer and ran out of the room, making sure to leave the page up. I called a quick goodbye out to my parents as I raced out the door, hoping they wouldn’t ask me to wait, and headed to the bus stop. Dean was waiting for the bus, and as I sidled up next to him, I whispered, “I am telling them tonight. I have the perfect plan.”

The day went by quickly, and even though Dean wasn’t going to be able to be with me when I told my parents, I still had the confidence stored inside that he gave me. Once I got home, I sat my parents down and told them I was gay.

***

  
The tie is finally working with me, and I am getting closer to having it tied. The story’s still playing out in my head. How angry my father was, how he stormed out of the house, how my mother ran out of the room.

I followed my mother, expecting a scene, but all she did was hug me. “Your father…” she started, but got choked up. I knew she was at a breaking point, and I knew she needed to know what I had found. Once she knew, she didn’t hesitate in calling the police.

The police officers kept telling us that he was sick, he had a disease. I didn’t believe them. A man who could do that to a child, he was just evil. I grew up, I am older now. Did I really want to hold onto that anger much longer than I already had? I took a deep breath. My father was sick. My father was sick. I repeat the mantra a few more times, until I heard the door open.

***

  
“Are you ready?” My mother asks, smiling at me in the mirror.

The bowtie finally looks right, or at least mostly okay, so I give it one more tweak and turned around. “Yeah, I am ready.” She holds my hand and guides me to a set of double doors. I take a deep breath. “I love you, mom. I am glad you’re here today.”

She squeezes my hand, and then let’s go, resting it in the crook of my elbow. “I wouldn’t miss your wedding for anything, Castiel.” The tears in her eyes threaten to fall, but she wipes them away quickly. “Now, I have to give you some last minute advice. My mother told me, and her mother told her. Be true to yourself, Castiel, no matter what anyone says or does. Those who truly love you will stay by your side, and you don’t want those that don’t stand by you.” She turns to the doors and nods at the two ushers on either side.  
“I love you, honey.”

The doors open, and I look down the aisle. Standing there, in a tux much like my own, bowtie and all, is Dean. He smiles at me, and I smile back. I couldn’t ask for a better husband, and I couldn’t feel any freer than I do in this moment.

**Author's Note:**

> I have had this in my head for awhile now, glad to get it down. Obviously some of the content is heavy, but overall I think this story could be expanded. Let me know what you think!


End file.
